


Strawberries and Torn Lace

by meh_guh



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Roleplay, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis promised to teach Porthos about the ladies. It's a practical lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberries and Torn Lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JEAikman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/gifts).



> Whoop! Promised this fic back in March, sorry! Follows from S01E07 "A Rebellious Woman" when Aramis promised he'd give Porthos a lesson in women.

'So Monsieur du Vallon...'

Porthos turned, already half smiling at Aramis's courtly tones. The mare he'd taken for the hasty ride out to the monastery remained high-strung under Porthos's hands as he checked the fit of the girth. Damn horse must've last been taken out by blasted Chevalin or DuBois. Some idiot who had no understanding of men, let alone horseflesh. Porthos sneered at the stirrup.

'Monsieur d'Herblay,' Porthos shot back, conscious of Athos and d'Artagnan gaining ground on the road back to Paris. D'Artagnan seemed to be needling Athos over something; Porthos could only approve, but he was feeling the pull of his landlady's hot water and starched sheets. 'Did you have an issue you wished to raise?'

Aramis walked his own gelding past Porthos, not even breaking his stride as he leaned across to whisper 'that lesson on women? Midnight, your quarters.'

Porthos felt his britches tighten, but Aramis was already hoisting himself into the saddle and cantering after Athos. Porthos grabbed at his own hardening cock and muttered a few Latin curses Aramis had taught him. Midnight was over ten hours away.

****

By the time the crier had signalled half-past eleven, Porthos had washed five times, changed shirts thrice, and rearranged his room twice. He still wasn't convinced the armoir belonged to the _left_ of the window...

Finally giving up, Porthos sank onto his mattress and stared at the door. A quarter to came and went with no Aramis in sight, so Porthos charged over to the window and threw it open to lean out and peer at the alley below.

'Surely a gentleman would consult a lady before adjusting the arrangement of air flow,' a husky voice emanated from the doorway.

'Who the-' Porthos pulled up short as he recognised Aramis's well-loved features above a blindingly white corset and skirts. Aramis was lean, yes, but somehow he'd dressed himself in such a way as to appear petite. Porthos growled under his breath and took a step towards him.

Aramis grinned and snapped a fan open over his moustaches, canting his head down to peer coquettishly up at Porthos.

'Lesson the first,' Aramis said from behind the fan. 'A Lady has final say over who approaches her.'

Porthos stilled and let Aramis close and bolt the door before he said anything. 'Does the lady expect me not to move about my own rooms freely?'

'Lesson the second,' Aramis closed the fan and jabbed it in Porthos's sternum. 'A gentleman never acts the boor when a lady enters his chambers.'

Porthos grinned and walked the two and a half steps backwards to sit on his bed. 'The lady surprised me, is all. I _beg_ the lady's pardon.'

Aramis's lips turned up and he snapped his fan open to conceal his face below his eyes. 'Lesson the third...' he thrust a small basket towards Porthos. 'A gentleman plies his lady with gifts.'

Porthos leaned forward just far enough to take hold of the basket. Beneath a linen cloth, it held a few dozen wild strawberries, plump and ripe and perfect. He plucked one out and held it up by the stem, twirling it between himself and Aramis.

'And when the lady brings her _own_ treats?'

Aramis fluttered his eyelashes over the edge of his fan. 'Why, then the gentleman bows to the lady's choice of how to enjoy the treat.'

The growl rising in his chest caught Porthos half by surprise; he covered by surging to his feet and checking the bolt on the door, leaving Aramis to arrange himself and his skirts against Porthos's headboard.

When Porthos turned back to the bed, Aramis had one of the strawberries resting against his lower lip, his other hand stroking lazy patterns on his own cocked thigh. Every upstroke tugged the skirts a fraction of an inch higher, hard muscle and scarred skin Porthos yearned to claim being exposed at a glacial pace while Aramis rolled the damn strawberry back and forth against his lower lip.

Porthos made himself lean back against the door, hands balled into fists and shoved into the small of his back. 'So the lady thinks a bed is a place for eatin', does she?'

Aramis's smile widened into a grin and he finally bit into his strawberry. Its juice glistened on his red lips and Porthos _ached_ to climb over Aramis, pin him down and lick the sweetness out of his mouth until he could taste the remnants of wine and gunpowder that would be lurking in the corners.

'A lady,' Aramis dragged the remaining half of his strawberry down the line of his throat as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes to let out a shuddering breath. 'A- a lady sometimes wishes a gentleman might take a _hint_.'

Porthos dived forward and set his mouth to the glistening trail over Aramis's Adam's apple, hands closing on Aramis's whaleboned waist. Aramis groaned under him and threw a leg around Porthos's hip, thrusting up like a wild thing for a handful of seconds before he shifted his hips and flipped Porthos onto the mattress and sat back.

'Now _Porthos_ ,' he pouted, throwing the stem of the strawberry carelessly to the floor. 'A gentleman needs to pay _attention_. Not all ladies appreciate some rough trade.'

Porthos walked his fingers along the lean line of Aramis's thigh, ruching the petticoat higher as he went. 'Pretty sure all the ladies _I'll_ bed find rough trade their main pull.'

Aramis's eyebrows pinched, and he set a hand against Porthos's cheek. 'Porthos-'

Porthos growled and seized Aramis by the collar of his corset to drag him down for a kiss.

Aramis went easily, warm hands stroking along the tense lines of Porthos's arms and across his chest while he grinned into the kiss. Porthos slid his hands along the bunched material covering Aramis, fingers clenching in the linen.

'Porthossss...' Aramis whined, and Porthos abruptly lost his patience and wrenched. The petticoats tore, revealing flushed skin and dark hair. Porthos started forward, but Aramis pulled back with a scandalised glare.

' _No_ Porthos!' He sat back, gathering the torn petticoats into his lap and scowling. 'You have to _untie_ thing, not tear them asunder like some thoughtless brute! Do you have _any idea_ what the cost of petticoats _is?!_ '

Porthos blinked, hands settling on Aramis's bared thighs. He started rubbing his thumbs in little circles, edging his fingers higher. 'Sorry, but they're ruined now. Too late, eh?'

Aramis's eyes narrowed and he plucked Porthos's hands off his own thighs. 'Yes. They _are_.'

Porthos went along with Aramis pressing his hands against the headboard, if only because Aramis had to stretch full-length along Porthos's chest to reach. He scraped his teeth over Aramis's collarbone when it came into range, but didn't try to move when Aramis sat back.

'My dear Porthos,' Aramis said, pulling the torn fabric out of his lap and starting to tear it into strips. 'Since you cannot be trusted not to ruin lovely things, I think you need to be restrained.'

He tore the linen into broad strips, dropping each one onto Porthos's chest until the whole petticoat was destroyed.

'Since you can't be trusted to keep your hands to yourself,' Aramis leaned over Porthos to the headboard again and wrapped a strip of petticoat around his wrist. 'Some external assistance is required.'

'Kinky,' Porthos grinned up at Aramis. 'Go on, then.'

Aramis leaned in almost close enough for a kiss, breathed against Porthos's lips for an agonising moment, then swept forward and proceeded to secure Porthos's hands to the headboard with such expertise Porthos had to make a mental note to tell Athos Aramis should be in charge of securing prisoners from now on.

' _That_ ought to ensure my corset survives this encounter,' Aramis said, settling back in Porthos's lap again. Without the camouflage of the petticoats, Porthos could see Aramis's cock standing up, straining forward as desperately as Porthos's own.

Porthos growled, straining fruitlessly against the restraints. 'Is the _lady_ planning on doin' something, or did she just want to admire the view?'

Aramis smirked and reached into where his cleavage would've been if he'd had the equipment and pulled out a bottle of oil. 'A gentleman should let a lady take her time. A lady needs a slow burn to get going, Porthos.'

' _Your_ ladies, maybe,' Porthos bucked under Aramis to try and egg him on. 'Mine get wet as soon as see me.'

Aramis didn't respond; he just slicked up his fingers and reached behind himself. Porthos watched, hips twitching in time with Aramis's as Aramis's shoulders tensed and released.

Aramis made a real show of preparing himself, all fluttering eyelashes and soft moans until the headboard started creaking ominously under the pull Porthos was exerting.

' _Damn_ the lady, Aramis!' Porthos half-shouted as Aramis shuddered and pitched forward, sweat beading across his throat. 'Get on me _now!_ '

Aramis shifted, greasing up Porthos's cock and setting it against his hole, then he sank down with a groan that sounded like it'd been dragged up from his toes. Porthos strained forward again, the ache in his arms and the warning creak of the headboard barely noticed as he tried to get closer to Aramis.

'God, Porthos...' Aramis sighed, bowing forward as he took Porthos fully in. ' _Porthos_...'

'Aramis...' Porthos growled in reply, pulling his legs up to brace his feet against the mattress. 'I'm going to fuck you so hard Athos'll pull you off the duty roster for the rest of the _month_.'

'Promises, promises,' Aramis chuckled, bracing one hand over Porthos's heart and shifting his own legs so he was squatting. ' _I'll_ ride _you_ so hard you won't be able to stand for the rest of the month.'

Before Porthos could reply, Aramis started rocking. Gently at first, an easy roll of his hips, fingers digging into Porthos's chest with every downstroke, then he started moving harder. Aramis lifted up high enough for Porthos to start thrusting and leaned back to brace one hand against Porthos's knee while the other wrapped around his leaking cock.

Porthos strained even harder against the petticoats, but they held firm. He watched as Aramis worked himself on Porthos's cock, rhythm dropping from smooth to erratic as he got closer. Spreading his knees a little for leverage, Porthos focussed on thrusting up in sharp, brutal strokes until Aramis cried out and clenched around him, seed spurting across Porthos's chest.

Porthos gentled his thrusting as Aramis shivered through the aftershocks, then coughed. 'You'd better have a knife handy, because I'll be out on the street if I break this bed and I'm runnin' out of landladies to charm.'

Aramis laughed and eased himself off Porthos to fumble with Porthos's scabbard. A few moments and he'd sliced through the petticoat straps binding Porthos's right arm. Porthos relieved his shaky hands of the knife and freed his own left hand before flinging the knife towards the floor and pressing a loose and sated Aramis into his bedding.

'How does the lady,' Porthos splayed a hand over the line of hooks running down the front of Aramis's corset. 'Wish me to finish?'

'The lady,' Aramis widened his legs and beamed up at Porthos. 'Wishes the gentleman to take his pleasure how he will.'

Porthos returned the grin and hauled Aramis's legs over his shoulders and lined up. 'No walking for a month, we said?'

Aramis laughed, the sound turning into a gasp as Porthos thrust back in and pressed their mouths together. Aramis murmured sweet nothings into Porthos's mouth and stroked his hands over the tense muscle of Porthos's back like they had all the time in the world.

Aramis always kissed like it was the only thing happening, but Porthos was too wound up and too greedy to play for long. He set one foot against the floor, pulled Aramis against him by the hips and rutted away.

A dozen thrusts later, Porthos sagged into Aramis, breath and heart still thundering away. He slid free with a groan, pressed another kiss tot he base of Aramis's throat and rolled over to keep from crushing him.

Once he'd caught his breath, Porthos turned his head to smirk at Aramis. 'Has the lady had a satisfactory evening?'

Aramis sat up and turned his back to Porthos. 'It'd be perfect if the gentleman would help the lady out of this iron maiden.'

Porthos looked at the intricate lacing, considered fumbling around trying to untie them, then grinned and reached for his knife.

' _ **PORTHOS!!**_ '


End file.
